She dips her head, covers her face with her hands and starts to sob, her shoulders shaking.
‘Hey, hey,’ he says. ‘Don’t be silly.’
He tries to put his arm around her, but the gesture feels painfully awkward. How did they get like this? So emotionally and physically distant that he has forgotten how to comfort his own wife.
‘I didn’t know. I wasn’t there,’ she says through a veil of tears.
‘You weren’t to know. How could you?’
‘I’ve let them down. My children. I should have been there.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, don’t go hauling yourself over the rack now. We can’t be there for them every minute of the day. Checking up on them. Got to let them fly the coop some time.’
‘And what about you? Drunk as a skunk, no doubt?’
‘Now, hang on a second, Livvy …’
She paces the lounge now, stopping to stare out of the window as though searching for something or someone before coming back to look down on him imperiously. How quickly they seemto go from anger to sadness, guilt to blame. She hugs herself, rocking back and forth before she starts up the pacing again.
‘Why can I never just have one moment of joy for myself? One night of happiness and freedom?’
She seems to be saying this to herself rather than directing these questions to him.
‘Look, it’s safe to say we all let ourselves go a bit last night,’ he says. ‘Speaking of which, where did you end up? Last thing I remember, you had a headache …’
‘You could never understand how I feel, Tobias,’ she says.
‘Is this about the shop you decided to let? Your so-called new life down here as a gallery owner? Because, if it is, I’ve got news for you, sweetheart.’
Olivia comes to a halt and rounds on him.
‘What?’
Tobias blows out a puff of air, scratches his head, searching for the right words as he finds there is no easy way to tell her about the fire. He is about to go ahead and blurt it out when his phone rings and he sees it is a local number calling. Perhaps it’s the hospital.
‘Tobias Woolf,’ he answers, his voice serious.
The voice at the other end matches his formality.
‘Hello, Mr Woolf, it’s Detective Price here. I’m just calling with an update on the investigation, as requested.’
‘Ah, good,’ he says. ‘What have you found?’
‘Well, we’ve been analysing the video footage you supplied us with and it has thrown up a few avenues of enquiry, which we’ve been following through. One thing I thought I should mention is the fact that we have a sighting of a female entering and leaving the property last night before the fire started.’
‘Oh, yes,’ he says, his blood rising. ‘Can you identify them? Is it that Jenkins woman staying next door, as I suggested?’
‘We do have footage of both Mr and Mrs Jenkins with their child, coming and going at several times of day, finally returningto the property in the late hours of Saturday evening, which corroborates with both of their statements.’
‘And?’ prompts Tobias, frustration beginning to throb at his temples now.
‘Well, more interesting is the fact that there was an unidentified female seen that night on the property, who would seem to be someone else entirely. They’re wearing different clothes, appear to have a different figure. Taller. Bare legs. It’s hard to get a clear picture so late at night. Their face is partially covered. But we can clearly identify one distinguishing feature from the footage.’
‘Yes,’ says Tobias. ‘What’s that?’
‘The person in question has long hair, sir. Long, red hair.’
Tobias listens to the detective’s voice at the end of the phone, expecting them to say more, to give further clarification, though their meaning is quite implicit.
